Before the sun was up, Constance slipped out of her pallet under the wagon and pushed through the canvas bonnet. Nettie lay curled up under the blue patchwork quilt, her breathing soft and regular. The green dimity dress lay in a heap on the trunk lid, topped by a careless assortment of petticoats, underdrawers and a rose-embroidered corset cover.
“Nettie, wake up.”
“I am awake, Cissy. I’ve been waiting for you.”
Constance gazed down into her sister’s wide blue eyes. “Have you, now?”
Last night after the dance she had walked three times around the parade ground perimeter to cool her fury. This morning she was still so angry her voice shook. “What on earth are you up to, Sister?”
Nettie returned her look with a defiant tilt to her chin. “It is perfectly obvious, is it not? I am engaged to the major.”
Constance stared at her. “You are no such thing.”
“It’s true. Colonel Butterworth said so. He announced it last night at the dance.” Her voice became silky. “You were there, Cissy, and I know you heard.”
“That does not make it true. Oh, Nettie, how could you?”
Nettie shoved herself up to a sitting position. “How could I what?”
“How could you brazenly entrap a man that way?”
“It wasn’t brazen.” Nettie’s lower lip pushed forward.
“I told the colonel about my condition, and…”
“You lied to him! You made up one of your stories and tricked a well-meaning man with a complete fabrication.”
“I did not lie. I merely hinted at a few things.”
“Nettie, listen to yourself!”
Nettie’s head came up. “What is so wrong about wanting to get married?”
“Nettie, people are not playthings, to be used when you need them and then tossed away. Other people have feelings, commitments you know nothing about.”
“But…” Nettie began to snuffle. “I must get married, Cissy. I am carrying a child!”
“It is not Major Montgomery’s child. You are just using him. And you manipulated Colonel Butterworth into helping you do it. Never, never have I been so distressed at your behavior. Your actions are selfish and arrogant and thoughtless beyond what I would have thought possible.”
She turned away, unable to watch the tears puddling in Nettie’s eyes. “You are my sister, but at this moment I cannot bear to look at you.”
She snatched her brown everyday dress off its nail and dove underneath the skirt.
“Well, Cissy, have you asked yourself why you are so upset about my engagement? Perhaps you fancy the major for yourself?”
Constance popped her head through the neck opening. “A man is not a prize, like a horse or a cow, to be squabbled over. A man has feelings, too.” She yanked the bodice into place and began on the buttons. Her hands trembled so violently she couldn’t manage a single one.
“What if the major loves me?”
“He does not.”
“He might. I’ve seen him look at me…”
“He does not,” Constance repeated.
Nettie cocked her head and peered up at her. “You think he cares for you, is that it?”
The question caught her by surprise. Her heart somersaulted into her throat. “No. Oh, I don’t know.”
“That is it! I knew it. You’re jealous, Cissy. Jealous!”
Constance flinched. Nettie was partly right. But only partly.
“I’m desperate, Cissy. And you’re not. You have time to find someone else.”
But this is the man—the only man—I want. The only man I have ever wanted.
“I don’t want anyone else!” She flung the words at Nettie as if they were red-hot coals.
“Well, the major hasn’t spoken for you, has he? And since he hasn’t…well, he didn’t object when the colonel announced—”
“I asked him not to humiliate you in public.”
“And you want me to believe that’s why he said nothing? That he did it for you?”
“I think rather that he did it for himself. Major Montgomery has good manners.”
“Well, then, don’t you see, Cissy? He will marry me, and we’ll all be happy again, like it was before Papa died. Before…” Nettie gazed up at her with a stricken look on her face. “You must help me, Cissy, Please. Please. I cannot bear this alone.”
Sick at heart, Constance knelt beside her. “Is it not enough that I love and care for you because you are my sister?” she said in an unsteady voice. “That I give you the food off my plate? That I would give my life to keep you safe? You want this, as well?”
“I do, Sister. I must have it, don’t you see?” She buried her face against Constance’s neck. Her skin was sticky with tears.
“Yes,” Constance said, gentling her voice. “I do see. But it is not up to me. Nor even you, Nettie. The major is his own man.”
“What do you mean?”
“In the end, it must be his decision.”
For better or worse, it must be his decision. But, God in heaven, she would put nothing past Nettie now.
“Told ya so, Major. That Nettie’s a cracker, all right.”
John narrowed his gaze, scanning the long hill ahead of them. “It is not my intention to dance at the end of Nettie Weldon’s rope.”
“Huh. The road to hell is paved with such-like intentions. No man wants to be under a gal’s thumb.”
John said nothing.
“What Miss Nettie needs is a steady hand on the reins and maybe a thwack across her backside ever’ so often.”
“Not interested.”
“Don’t hafta be. She’s got you hog-tied and halfway to the altar.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“Don’t see it, do ya, Major? How some woman kin work it.”
“No, I damn well don’t.”
“Well, listen to ol’ Billy. I told ya right off, I did—remember, John? Told ya two unattached women on a wagon train usually means consternation with a capital K.”
John reined up and pinned Billy with a look. “You’ve said enough, Billy.”
“Sure, John. Sure. Didn’t mean to rile ya up none.” He sent John a sidelong glance.
John squinted into the sun and changed the subject. “See anything odd about that sycamore up ahead?”
“Gonna be one damn strange family, you and the sister, and the sister’s sister. What sycamore?”
“Something dark around the trunk.” The major kicked his mount. As they drew nearer, his frown dissolved into a grin.
“Billy, I’m going to ride on ahead. You drop back and get Miss Constance. She’s not going to believe this.”
“What is it? I don’t see nothin’—oh, you mean that thingamabob tied around the base of that tree? Looks to me like…” Billy chuckled. “Sure, I’ll go get her. Maybe this’ll cheer her up a mite.”
He peeled off and circled around behind the wagons, coming up on the left side of the big blue Conestoga Constance was driving.
“Good morning, Billy.”
“Mornin’, Miss Constance. Major wants to see ya. He’s up ahead a ways.”
Her smile faltered. “Will he wait?”
“Naw. You climb down and take my horse. I’ll drive yer wagon.”
“Go slowly, won’t you? Nettie’s asleep in the back.”
Billy grinned. “Now, don’t you worry none about Miss Nettie. She’s in good hands.”
Constance winced. Nettie was in the major’s hands, if she took Billy’s meaning. And there wasn’t one blessed thing she could do about it.
She pulled the team to a halt, set the brake and climbed down. Billy dismounted, laced his fingers together and lifted her foot to help her mount.
“This here’s a smart horse, Constance. Jes’ a light touch on the reins is all you’ll need.”
“Thank you, Billy. The oxen, however, are tough hearted but steady. I don’t use the whip much.”
Billy grinned at her. “I’ve driven oxen. You’ve rid a horse. Seems like we’re about even.”
He watched her put the paint into a canter, and then a trot as she went forward to meet the major. “Damn fine woman,” he muttered. “Major oughtta wake up pretty quick, or it’ll be too late.”
He lifted the whip. “Gee-up, you sons o’ the devil. Make a track ’r two!”
She rode faster than she knew was safe on an unfamiliar mount, but something pulled at her. Within a few minutes she drew up to where the major’s dark horse waited beside the trail.
“How are you, Constance?”
“Well,” she said in a tight voice. “And you?”
His eyes sought hers. “Lying, just like you.”
Constance studied his sun-browned face, the steady blue eyes that held hers with an unspoken message. “Yes, we are, aren’t we?”
“Yep.” His lips thinned. “Can’t do much else, I guess.”
“Yes,” she said. Her heart began to ache as it did every night, only now she was denied the release of tears.
She steadied her breathing. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yep. Look yonder.” He pointed at the sycamore tree.
Something was tied around the trunk, like a daisy chain of various-sized dark objects. She stepped the horse forward.
“Moccasins! Why, they’re beautiful! Where did they come from?”
“Yellow Wolf, I’d bet. Count them.”
Constance bent from the saddle. “Seven pair. And all sizes, as if…”
“For the Ramsey children. And a pair for you and your sister. He probably measured all your footprints.”
“Footprints?” The fine hair on her neck rose. “You mean Yellow Wolf is tracking us?”
“Not tracking, exactly. Just feeding himself on whatever he finds lodged in the crotch of a tree, and wanting to repay the baker.”
Constance shot him a glance. “You saw me! You know what I’ve been….”
His lips twitched, and she felt an odd sense of relief.
“You’re pretty damn smart.” He dismounted in an easy motion, flicked open a penknife and cut the leather thong that was wound around the trunk.
“Here.” He handed up the string of deerskin slippers.
“Going barefoot on the Oregon Trail is rough on children. And ladies. Yellow Wolf meant to thank you.”
The largest pair was covered with tiny blue and white beads. “I am touched, John. Yellow Wolf must be a good man.”
The major pressed his lips together. “He is not a good man. Don’t get careless and walk out alone.”
“But you told him…he thinks I am your woman.”
John remounted and caught the bridle of her horse, drew close enough to reach out and touch her if he wanted. But he did not.
“You are my woman. And Yellow Wolf is what he is. A thief.”
Constance stared at him, her thoughts tumbling over themselves. She was his. He wanted her to be his.
But he was looking at her so oddly, as if…as if he was angry.
“So there it is,” he said without inflection. “I don’t know what we’re going to do.”
Her breath stopped. “We?”
“You and me.” He released her horse and lifted his own reins. “I’ll come to you tonight. We’ll talk about it then.”
He wheeled the mare away and rode on into the sun.